


Sunday Morning Coming Down

by gehirnstuerm



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-22
Updated: 2011-03-22
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gehirnstuerm/pseuds/gehirnstuerm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sundays are lonely, Danny is distracting and Steve is nothing like John Rambo. Things progress from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning Coming Down

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to wattle_neurotic, the quickest (and most entertaining) beta in the world and LacrimaDraconis who provided me with the title!

Steve doesn't really hate Sundays, not always. He has experienced perfectly nice Sundays since he's been back in Hawaii. As of late, most of them have either involved car chases, gunfights or quality time with his team – sometimes all of the above. What Steve dislikes are lazy Sundays. Lonely Sundays. Sundays like this one, with no plans, no tasks and nothing to do but sit around and brood.

Saturdays aren't so bad, usually. No matter what Danny says, Steve is a human being and he needs some time to rest after a long week. He's always up early, but Steve enjoys taking his time for breakfast and his morning swim or to catch a wave. Yesterday he also used the spare time to fix a few things around the house, do the laundry and work on his father's Marquis. It was a productive day, which equals a good day in Steve's world.

The downside is that there isn't anything left to do today. It's driving Steve insane, especially since the rain is pouring down, limiting Steve's options even more. Idleness makes him twitchy. Ever since his mother died, he'd felt the constant need to be in motion, to be active, to make a difference. It hasn't gotten any better since his father died, to say the least.

Without a task to focus on, Steve's thoughts always come back to the toolbox and run in circles around the evidence it contains, whether he wants it or not. While other people look forward to some time off, Steve often hopes for a new case when the weekend approaches. There's nothing like catching bad guys to take your mind off your worries.

Well, almost nothing. Spending time with Danny works equally well, Steve has noticed, even when there's no drug-cartel busting or murder solving involved. And it's not just because the ranting, the yelling and the extensive hand-waving make it hard to concentrate on anything else when Danny's around. Steve has never met anyone like him before. Danny constantly challenges him, gets behind his defenses effortlessly and pushes his buttons like no one else can. He brings out a side of him that probably hasn't surfaced since elementary school. In what felt like minutes, Danny has become not only his partner, but also his closest friend. Family, even. Maybe Steve should find this more worrying than he does, but he wouldn't want it any other way.

And then there's this other thing Steve would rather not think about too much. This thing includes the fact that it's getting really hard for him to take his eyes off his partner, to the point that he's afraid people will notice. It also includes the warm feeling he gets, whenever he sees Danny with Grace or the funny things Steve's heart does sometimes when Danny smiles at him. Steve has no idea what to do about it, because ignoring it hasn't done the trick so far. It's been a while since he's felt so unsure about something, possibly since high school, and Steve hates it.

This is the only reason why he hasn't called Danny yet. It should be easy to pick up the phone, call Danny and put an end to this brooding session, but Steve hesitates. He knows it isn't Gracie's weekend, but this doesn't mean Danny hasn't got any other plans. Even if he hasn't, Danny might not want to spend even more time with the guy who insists on driving his car. On the other hand, it's not like his partner has ever had any qualms about waltzing into Steve's house unannounced.

When Steve finally makes the decision to dial Danny's number, his call goes straight to voice mail.

 

***

 

There's big chance that he's overreacting, that Danny has a perfectly good reason not to answer his fucking phone. At least Steve tries to tell that to himself as he gets out of his truck and makes his way toward Danny's apartment door through the heavy rain. But Danny's phone is never turned off. He might dodge Rachel's calls to answer them later, he might bitch and moan if he gets called into HQ in the middle of the night, but he's always available. Now he's not and for Steve that's plenty of cause for alarm.

A second after he starts knocking – well, hammering – on Danny's door, he knows everything's alright. He hears Danny curse somewhere inside the apartment and Steve lets out a breath. By the time Danny reaches the door, it seems like he's already mid-rant.

"-- Jesus Christ, McGarrett can't a man enjoy his Sunday? The Lord's Day? Ring a bell? The one where you're supposed to rest?“

Steve can't answer right away, because his brain must have short-circuited. Or maybe he got knocked unconscious and now he's reliving one of his highly inappropriate dreams featuring his partner.

Because there's Danny standing in the doorframe and he's wearing jeans. This alone would be noteworthy, Steve finds, but the jeans are, in fact, all Danny's wearing. His torso is quite obviously still damp from a shower he must have taken mere minutes ago and Steve's eyes are decidedly not roaming over Danny's chest and abs or staring at his partner’s hips peeking out of his pants.

“Something wrong? You okay?” Danny's change of tone snaps Steve's eyes back to Danny's face, which shows a lot more stubble than usual. Instead of mildly annoyed (which Steve thinks is Danny's default expression) his partner now looks the slightest bit alarmed.

“No,” Steve hurries to say, “no emergency. But why aren't you answering your phone?”

“Because I was in the shower? Am I not allowed to take a shower now? Civilized people do that once in a while!” With a glare Danny steps aside to let Steve in.

Steve glares right back, but it's mostly because Danny starts to pull a faded blue t-shirt over his head and right now, Steve hates the damn t-shirt with a passion. “Your phone went straight to voice mail, Danny.”

“Huh.” Danny starts looking around for his cell phone, absently pulling a hand through his hair to prevent it from sticking up at all the wrong places. “Must be the stupid batteries. God, I hate this damn phone.” Suddenly he starts grinning. “Is that why you're here? You couldn't reach me, so you came over to make sure no bad guy had clubbed me over the head or something?”

Steve can feel his face heat up and sincerely hopes it doesn't show. It probably doesn't. He's a Navy SEAL, for God's sake. He's not going to blush like a school girl, because he's embarrassed. He hasn't blushed in years and he's not going to start now. Then again, the passable poker face he used to have is pretty much useless when he's around Danny. And that is even when Danny's properly wrapped up in a button-down a tie and not parading around in a flimsy washed out t-shirt and a pair of jeans threatening to fall off any minute. Not that Steve's complaining; but even a trained professional can only muster so much self-control.

“Yeah, yeah, don't be so smug about it,” Steve grumbles, “I probably shouldn't have worried. No criminal would even enter your shit hole of an apartment.”

“Oh, now you've hurt my feelings,” Danny rolls his eyes, before he starts looking at Steve expectantly. “So, as much as your concern touches me – and it does, very deep in my heart – what do you want?”

Steve blinks. “What?”

And now Danny's looking at him with that what-have-I-done-to-deserve-you-expression. “What, what? You tried to call me and then you drove all the way here. On a Sunday, no less, so I assume it's urgent. So please tell me: To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Steve looks down, not really meeting Danny's eyes. Suddenly he feels stupid and he doesn't even know why. Danny is his friend after all. It's perfectly appropriate for one friend to call the other friend on a Sunday. People do that, Steve is quite positive. It doesn't help, though, because his response comes out a lot more awkward than intended.

“I was ...bored. And – and I wanted to, you know, hang out.”

Danny regards him with a blank expression. “You were bored and wanted to hang out.”

“Yes, that's what I said,” Steve snaps, feeling a little defensive.

Danny tilts his head and looks at him with an expression Steve has no idea how to read. Then he just shrugs. “Sure, why not?”

“Really?” Steve really tries to sound less excited than he feels, but of course he fails miserably.

Danny snorts softly. “I consider it a public service. We can't have you, of all people, being bored, can we? You need supervision, so you won't blow things up or sink the goddamn island.”

Steve rolls his eyes dutifully, but he's too pleased to be annoyed. He's going to spend the afternoon with Danny, who is wearing neither a dress shirt nor a tie, so his Sunday has gotten a lot better all of a sudden.

Of course Danny's not done with his rant yet. Steve gets the feeling he never truly is. “But whatever crazy thing you feel like doing today, I need something to eat first. If we can find something without pineapples on this goddamn island, that is. I'll be ready to go in a minute.”

And with that Danny disappears in his tiny bathroom, leaving Steve sitting on the armrest of his very uncomfortable looking fold-out couch. Steve has no idea how Danny can sleep on this thing, night after night, and not wake up at the crack of dawn because his back is killing him.

“Have you just gotten out of bed?” he calls after Danny, “You know it's almost noon, right?”

Steve can hear Danny snort through the open bathroom door. “Yeah, it's called 'sleeping in', Steven. It's a thing. People do that on their day off, especially if they went to bed past two in the morning.”

“You went out last night?” Steve asks, trying to ignore the nasty feeling in his stomach that has come out of nowhere. It has absolutely nothing to do with the idea of Danny going to a date or worse, Danny taking his date home. Of course, Steve doesn't know it was a date, it could have been something else, but there's a strong possibility.

For some reason, he's never really thought about it at all, about Danny hooking up with someone. But Steve knows all too well that Danny is an attractive man and he's single, so why wouldn't he go on dates on his free weekends? His eyes wander over to the rumpled sheets, possibly still warm from Danny's body, because he's emerged from them not very long ago to take a shower...

Steve forcefully jerks his gaze away from the bed and takes a deep breath. This is a train of thought he really doesn’t need to follow.

Danny returns from the bathroom, his previously wild hair now slicked back as always. “Don't sound so surprised. Contrary to popular belief I have something resembling a social life. Speaking of – shall we go now or do you need an engraved invitation?”

Steve doesn't need to be asked twice. He grabs Danny's car keys and steps out in the rain.

 

***

 

When they enter Steve's house after Danny is properly fed with food that actually suited him, Steve already knows what to expect. Steve had suggested watching a movie and Danny had gotten that twinkle in his eye that didn't bode well. They ended up renting Rambo I to III, because Danny insisted – and Danny should really give him more credit. Steve often does what he's told, just not necessarily on the job. Otherwise there aren't a lot of things he wouldn't do for Danny. If watching Rambo and giving Steve shit about it makes him happy, Steve is all too willing to oblige.

So Steve expects to be mocked relentlessly when he settles in one corner of the couch with a bottle of beer. He's looking forward to it. A lazy Sunday afternoon with a movie and a lot of bickering with Danny sounds fun. Relaxing, even.

But when he sees Danny crouching down in front of the DVD player, Steve has to correct himself. It is not relaxing to see Danny's jeans ride low on his ass. Not at all. It gets even worse when Danny settles on the other end of the couch in a loose sprawl. His shirt slides up a little, so a strip of skin just above his belt is revealed. By sheer force of will Steve manages to fix his gaze on the TV screen.

But Danny keeps glancing at him, he can feel it and it's driving him crazy. How is he supposed to pretend he's not undressing his partner with his eyes if said partner doesn't let him?

“What?” Steve barks, which only earns him a slap on the arm from Danny.

“What's with the face? It's Rambo! I thought it would be right up your alley! Shooting! Killing with bare hands! This doesn't sound like your ideal vacation? Face it, McGarrett, you are John Rambo.”

“What? I'm not John Rambo!” The indignation is enough to make the tension disappear, because seriously -- these movies got it all wrong.

Danny arches an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you are! And don't even try to argue. Do you really think Chin didn't tell me about the camo face paint? I mean, seriously, Steve! Camo face paint? Really?”

Steve can only groan and laugh, because of course Danny isn’t done yet. “That right there? That's you. Take a close look, my friend. Okay, you're taller than Sly, I'll give you that. And you didn't wear a bandana. Or did you? Tell me the truth, Steven! Did you wear a bandana?”

Steve is very proud of himself when he not only avoids snorting beer through his nose, but also manages to come up with a retort. “Yes, Danny. I stole one of your ties and put it to good use.”

Danny looks at him through his eyelashes and smirks. “That's cute, Steve. You couldn't bear running off to the jungle without a souvenir. It's sweet, I'm touched.”

Steve gulps down the rest of his beer, because his mouth is very dry all of a sudden.

 

***

 

By the time Rambo's second adventure begins, Steve is a bit tipsy. He only notices the shift in Danny's position, when Danny's knee is touching his thigh. Steve's breath hitches a little, but he wills himself not to move. He only risks a little sideways glance, but Danny seems to be perfectly comfortable. He hasn't moved much from his sofa corner, just lounges on the couch like he owns the damn thing, somehow taking up most of the space. Danny's eyes are fixed on the TV screen and one corner of his mouth twitches a little as he watches Rambo's antics. Steve knows he's even more screwed than he'd thought, when this alone makes his heart beat a little faster.

His brain also chooses this exact moment to go back to Danny's late-night activities and the rumpled sheets in his partner’s apartment. The thought is more than a little unpleasant and this time he can't seem to shake it off. Maybe it's the beer or maybe he's just discovered an unknown masochistic streak, but he really wants to know.

Steve hastily averts his eyes and clears his throat. “So, uh, what have you been up to last night? Big date?”

Danny reaches for his beer bottle. It's almost empty, apparently, because he tips his head far back to drain it. Steve can't help watching Danny's throat work and the way he licks his lips when he lowers the bottle again.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” he drawls with little smirk in Steve's direction.

And there it is again. Steve doesn't know what it is exactly, but he feels a pang of something deep in his gut and it's not pleasant at all. His poker face must be way off again, because Danny suddenly sits up to face him properly. His arm on the headrest of the couch is almost close enough to touch Steve's hair, as if Danny's searching glance didn't make him nervous enough already.

“Are you jealous?” Danny asks, his tone now questioning, but perfectly serious.

Steve can't look at Danny, but he can't quite avert his eyes either, so he goes with a frown and a scoff and prays it will work. Of course it won't. Danny can be like a fucking terrier that won't let go of a bone. Steve's thoughts are running in circles, because he really, really doesn't know how to deal with this. In fact, he secretly panics a little.

Or maybe even his panic isn't that much of a secret, because Danny's eyes widen and now Steve really has to turn away. But then Danny's fingers brush the nape of his neck, just a hint of a touch, almost accidental, and Steve shivers.

“Hey! Steve! Hey, look at me!”

Steve does, but he tries to make a big show of rolling his eyes. He can tell Danny's not buying it, because he cocks his head and narrows his eyes. “You are jealous! Aren't you?”

Steve's heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He sucks at all this emotional stuff, he knows this all too well. He's been preoccupied with his training and his missions for so many years. There were flings, sure. Casual relationships like with Catherine, but nothing he's been emotionally invested in.

But he's never been a coward, so he heaves an inward sigh and tries to steel himself for Danny's reaction. “Yeah, well. What – what if I was? Jealous, I mean.”

Danny just looks at him for a long moment before he slowly leans away from him to set his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. Steve is never nervous on the job, but this? This is scary. Silence and Danny don't mix, so this can't be good. And Danny's still not saying anything, just looking at him with a strange look on his face, and it's killing him.  
When Danny finally speaks, Steve is almost a bit startled.

“Well, in that case,” Danny begins, but instead of finishing the sentence, Danny's straddling his lap.

Maybe Steve should worry about his reflexes, because he hadn't seen this one coming. Danny's so very close, smirking down at him with an expression that is half affectionate and half predatory. Steve finds it suddenly very hard to breathe. When Danny slides a hand in his hair and leans in, Steve's eyes flutter shut.

It's just a soft press of lips, a gentle gesture that takes Steve by surprise. The kiss is tentative, almost chaste, but it makes his heart race nonetheless. Danny's mouth lingers on his for a moment and then it's gone again, but Steve can feel Danny's face is still very close. Danny seems to know that Steve’s brain needs a little time to catch up with this recent development, because when Steve opens his eyes again, he finds Danny’s face just a few inches from his, watching him with an expression that is equally fond and amused, waiting for Steve to react.

Part of him still finds it hard to believe that this is real, that he’s allowed to kiss Danny, to touch him, but the bigger part of him doesn’t want to waste any more time. Steve pulls Danny close to bring their mouths together for another kiss and this time there isn’t anything chaste about it. It’s electrifying and even better than Steve has ever imagined – and if he’s being perfectly honest, he has imagined it a lot.

It seems like Danny has lost all reserve now that Steve is kissing him back, because he does things with this tongue that make Steve’s toes curl. He lets out an embarrassing noise, very close to a whimper, which makes Danny chuckle against Steve’s mouth.

Danny’s lips, his tongue, the scratch of his stubble – they’re addictive. Steve could kiss like this forever, his hands on Danny’s hips or in his hair, just touching, licking and biting. Except Danny’s so close, yet so far away and Steve needs more. It’s been a while since Steve has felt so turned on from kissing alone, but Danny’s driving him insane.

Steve’s own feelings are perfectly mirrored in Danny’s face. His pupils are blown wide and his breath catches when Steve’s hands slide underneath the thin fabric of Danny’s t-shirt. Finally touching bare skin feels incredible and the sounds Danny makes go straight to Steve’s groin.

“Off,” Steve grits out. It earns him a breathless laugh from Danny, but he obediently strips off his shirt. The sight makes Steve’s mouth go dry, even though he’s seeing Danny shirtless for the second time today. It doesn’t matter. Steve can’t get out of his own shirt and undershirt fast enough.

“Impatient,” Danny comments in a husky voice but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He’s watching Steve with this look on his face, like Steve's the hottest thing he’s ever seen, and it’s almost too much already.

By the time Steve has opened Danny’s belt and Danny’s hand has disappeared in Steve’s boxers, he knows he’s not going to last.

 

***

 

“So, uh, you like guys, huh?” Steve deadpans, still breathing as hard as Danny, who is slumped over him, his face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck.

As expected, it’s been over almost embarrassingly fast and they’re both still half-dressed, their pants hanging open. He really needs to get Danny properly naked soon, Steve thinks, but for now everything’s perfect the way it is.

Danny’s probably feeling as boneless as Steve does, because he struggles to sit up. His face is flushed and thanks to Steve’s hands, his hair is an absolute disaster. He also looks very content and happy, which is the most beautiful thing Steve has seen in a while.

Danny snorts. “Yes, Steven. I like guys. And against better judgment I also happen to like you, God help me.” Danny pauses to roll his eyes at the undoubtedly very stupid grin that’s spreading over Steve’s face. “You can be pretty dense sometimes, you know that? See, I don’t usually flirt with my partner, who also happens to be my boss, if I’m not ready to put my money where my mouth is, if you know what I mean. I just wasn’t sure about you. No offence, but you are a bit socially challenged.”

As much as he wants to, Steve can’t really argue with that. He would be annoyed at himself for not recognizing Danny’s flirting for what it was, but with a half-naked Danny in his lap it’s hard to muster enough energy to care. He protests when Danny leans away from him to retrieve a discarded t-shirt, but apparently Danny’s not going anywhere. It’s Steve’s own shirt and Danny uses it to clean up the mess between them.

“Bastard,” Steve mumbles and swats half-heartedly at Danny’s hand. There’s a very smug grin on Danny’s face, which Steve wants to wipe right off. He startles a yelp out of Danny by flipping them, so Danny’s lying with his back on the couch with Steve in top of him.

“Always with the ninja tricks, McGarrett,” Danny laughs, jabbing a finger at Steve’s chest. “But you know what? I’m almost convinced you’re not actually a robot. Not that I’d care if you were one, at this point.”

Instead of answering Steve leans down to meet Danny for another kiss. Danny hums against his mouth and there’s no urgency now, just the slow and lazy drift of lips and tongues. Once they break the kiss Danny yawns heartily and pulls Steve down to settle on his chest. It takes some pushing and shoving, but once they’ve got their limbs arranged, it’s more comfortable on the narrow couch than Steve would have thought possible. Danny is warm and solid under him and one of Danny’s arms is slung around Steve’s waist, his hand idly stroking his back.

Steve grins against Danny’s skin. “You’re a cuddler.”

“Shut up, McGarrett,” Danny drawls, but his hand doesn’t stop moving. “Watch your alter ego on TV and let me take a nap. We can discuss a second round later.”

Steve can’t suppress a laugh. “You need a nap? You’re getting old, Danno.” Actually, he’s a bit sleepy himself, but Danny doesn’t need to know that.

“Watch it, Navy boy,” Danny huffs. “Be good or I will never ditch shirt and tie again. You were drooling over me today, babe. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I wasn’t drooling!” Steve lies and it comes out a lot more petulant than intended.

“Yes, you were,” Danny chuckles and presses a kiss on top of Steve’s head. “I won’t hold it against you, though. Now shush!”

Steve doesn’t argue for once and burrows closer into Danny’s warmth instead. He’s already drifting off to sleep when Danny speaks up again.

“Just so you know,” he mumbles, “I wasn’t on a date last night.”

Steve tilts his head to get a look at Danny’s face. The angle is awkward, but he can see that Danny’s smiling. “Thanks for clearing that up,” Steve says and presses a kiss to the stubbly jaw.

Maybe Sundays aren’t so bad after all.

 

FIN


End file.
